The Coming Storm
by Diaed
Summary: A storm is brewing in the Mojave, threatening to tear apart the lands, a war between the Legion and the NCR seeming to be unending. Yet the opposing sides should be the least of both armies worries. From the depths of a dead city emerged a long forgotten face, hatred burning for both sides and motive strong enough to bring her back from the grave. Don't look away, or he will know.


Fires burnt in the night, soft glows in the unending darkness, the moon not daring to cast light upon the desert landscape. The mass pushed forward, silent against the howling winds that lashed at the orange earth. They stumbled past gas station and ruined buildings. The mass froze, a single wolf headed man ceasing their forward march with a single hand movement. Raising the burning torch, the light brought life into the heavy bloodstains that marked the wall. The thick, crimson marks formed in a tribalistic manner to what could only be assumed to be a flower. Splattering the wall above and below the drawing were the words "_The flower blooms on"_. The man lowered his torch, bringing light to the body pinned below the image. His stomach had been cut open, intestines pulled out and displayed in a grotesque smiling face. The man's eyes had been cut off, jaw pried open and the cheek muscles cut to form a nightmarish smile. The man reached within the dead's mouth, retrieving a small slip of paper splattered with blood and soaked with saliva. _Don't look away; he will know if you do_.

* * *

"Morning" Was the simple greeting the man got, emerging from within the abandoned gas station "How did you sleep?" The woman asked, not bothering to look back to him as she dropped a cigarette to the ground; crushing it beneath her boot.

"How did you sleep?" He gave back, knowing well that she had not slept at all. She had bags under her eyes for a reason, and it wasn't just from her addictions.

"Eugh" She groaned, rubbing her eyes beneath dark shades "It is at times like this that I miss New Reno" She gave him a lop sided smile, doing her best to be social even though he would prefer her to not "Come on, New Vegas is just up ahead"

"I don't know why we didn't just stay the night at Novac" He grunted, picking a heavy pack up from her side and pulling it on.

"You shot the Inn keeper" She stated, picking up a pack of her own with a strained grunt of her own "I don't I have seen anything that gruesome since…." She trailed off, falling deliberately silent, she had been about to cross the line in their silent agreement "I was in DC" She decided would be the best lie "The woman I met there, Doctor Florence Nightingale, she was absolutely insane" He cared not to stop her in her half truths, finding an odd comfort in the others stories. An odd comfort he hadn't felt in quite some time "The radio DJ there, a man by the name of Three Dogs, called her the devil in human form. I honestly can't blame him, I mean; she was only nice to me because we are family, and blood is blood, you know?" She rambled on. He would have thought she would have run out of stories to tell by now, the past month they had spent together had been filled with her talking about where she had been and what she had done. Though she only ever spoke of the past four years and, even then, there were still details missing.

Perhaps, after a month of her dodging personal issues and yet prying at his own, he should go on the attack and inquire her about her own personal past. He owed her that much, after all, how many times had the woman saved his life over the past month? He was done with the insincerity behind her so called 'past', not want to hear who she had killed, what drugs she had taken and who she had met, but wanted to know why she did the things she did, why she held so much sympathy for him "Why do you hate the legion so much?" He asked; blunt being his style, as she had come to understand.

She quirked a red brow in response, trying to read him, doing her best to find motive to the question. She was quiet for a moment before responding "Ceaser killed my parents and my brother" She admitted, voice becoming oddly quiet and alone.

They fell into silence, an odd connection being formed in the gap between their conversations. It made her wonder if this was why she never stopped talking, why she never stopped lying, to stop a connection from being formed. She would lie to everyone but herself, she found the ex-NCR was more like her than she would care to admit aloud. Looking to the man, she smiled to herself; it was amazing how people who suffer keep going despite the pain.

"Why did you become a courier?" He asked, finally break the silence.

"Ah, now that, my friend, is a mystery" She smirked, looking out into the distance "Perhaps I should retrace my steps to the first time I set foot in the Mojave"

He rolled his eyes at this, not wanting to hear another of her stories that would inevitably cause her to retreat into her fortress of four year old stories and lies "Forget I asked" He groaned.

She chuckled at this, bouncing ahead a few steps before spinning around and walking backwards "What is with the sudden care in my personal life?" He chose not answer that, not wanting to admit to the other that it was what he owed both her and himself. They were a team now, they needed to trust each other, he needed to learn to trust her, yet he still refused to tell her about Carla. No. That required more than basic trust.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, just wanted to let you know that I'm just kinda messing about with this. I'm sorry if Boone doesn't seem like Boone, just understand that there is reason behind his weird behavior. They have known each other for a month, and when you walk everywhere and save each others lives every five seconds that can build up a lot of trust and care between two people. **

**I am sorry if my spelling and grammar is off, I'm an E grade student when it comes to english, but please do tell me when I mess up because I need to learn better. I appreciate all ****criticism. Thank you so much for reading :)**


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